Notes: Like Thaw, this chapter predates, overlaps, then succeeds Getting Caught.
Santana is oblivious, Brittany is more manipulative than anyone gives her credit for, and Quinn knows them both better than they think.
This is how they work.
This is how they've always worked.
Quinn knows that Santana and Brittany are going to end up as something other (more, better) than friends from the start. It's not something she really understands, not at first, but the first time she sits down to think about it – their freshman year, when she catches Santana staring at Brittany's ass (Quinn only catches her because she's trying not to do the same thing) – she can't think of a time she didn't know. Santana has always had anger management issues, and where Quinn has iron-clad discipline and religion, Santana has Brittany (later, Quinn will think to herself that Brittany is Santana's religion, but she and her parents' God haven't fallen out that far just yet).
She's been watching them lay out the framework for what feels like forever.
She knows that the only reason Brittany speaks perfect Spanish is because Santana would read her the Spanish-language version of all their books until they got too old for it (Santana looking down at the book, Brittany looking at her, and Quinn looking at the both of them and aching) and because the only way Santana will watch old Disney movies with Brittany is in Spanish (she claims it makes it easier to fall asleep to them if they're in Spanish, but Quinn spent too many nights watching Brittany whisper questions up to where Santana lay curled around her perfectly awake, and Santana whisper answers back, the two of them so wrapped up in each other they forgot Quinn was even there).
She knows the only reason Santana's not in juvie is because Brittany won't let her get into too many fights (her hand on Santana's arm, Santana relaxing inch by inch at Brittany's touch, Quinn's gut churning), and that Santana joined Glee Club for Brittany and not for Coach Sylvester (for an atmosphere where no one cares they're practically sharing a seat, with Quinn two seats down carving a groove into the chair with her rail-straight spine and clenched fingers cutting into plastic).
Girls' nights that used to be the three of them start just being Brittany disappearing to Santana's house, or vice-versa, and it's not hard to connect the odd bruise or hickey with the nights neither of them are answering their phone and Puckerman is at Finn's, annoying the hell out of Quinn, instead of with Santana (she's grateful he's there to take up Finn's attention, but at the same time, the looks he's giving her...).
The first time Quinn gets solid evidence is at one of Puck's parties. Quinn has come to the conclusion she's really very fond of wine coolers, and she's on her way back from getting herself another when she hears Puck cat-call, "woo, Lopez!"
Hoping Santana isn't trying to do a kegstand with Matt again – Quinn tells herself she won't drive Santana home after this time, but she knows it's a lie – Quinn turns the corner and stops dead in her tracks.
Puck and Matt are staring at Santana and Brittany (so is Quinn, and all for the same reason), who are in a chair barely big enough for the two of them and kissing like it's the end of the world. Quinn watches, forcing herself to breathe evenly, as Brittany lowers her lips to Santana's neck, and when Santana's head leans back, Brittany's eyes meet Quinn's over the chair arm.
If it were possible, Quinn would freeze all over again. Brittany's eyes are piercing, holding hers tightly as she lightly (reverently) kisses Santana's neck, and Quinn knows she's the only one who can see when Brittany slides a hand under Santana's shirt. She watches as Brittany uses her body to hide her hand from the boys, and Quinn presses her lips together tightly as she takes in a show even Santana doesn't know Quinn can see.
When Quinn sees Puck open his mouth out of the corner of her eye, she knows he's going to break the moment, and she steps fully into the room. How she knows, and why she cares, are beyond Quinn at the moment, but she's sure Puck inserting himself into this would ruin it, and she speaks up, sure to sway a little as she demands bitchily, "where's Finn?"
His lecherous eyes are on her instead (there's something beneath that in his eyes, something Quinn doesn't want to deal with because trying to make things good with Finn is hard enough right now), and his smirk says he knows his best friend will be getting laid tonight. Quinn internally rolls her eyes at how easy Puck is to read, and lets herself be led.
The last thing she sees before she leaves the room is gratitude in Brittany's eyes before she claims (claims) Santana's lips again.
[*]
Finn and Puck are their own problem.
Quinn knows that Finn is the one who will stay with her past high school, the one who can give her the picket-fence, the two-car garage, the 2.5 children. Finn, with his puppy-dog charm and careful handling of her physical boundaries, will be good for her. Finn is a good Christian, the head of the football team, her parents love him (and, she'll think to herself later, he would have been so easy to cheat on).
Puck is all slick charm and bad-boy appeal. He's Jewish, he has a nipple piercing, he plays guitar like he was born to it – he's everything her first affair should be, but not boyfriend material.
It's not so much that she's attracted to him so much as he always knows what to say. He knows her fat days like someone put them in his phone calendar (and the days she's almost physically sick from watching Santana and Brittany be Santana-and-Brittany), and always finds her when Finn can't, talking to her like she's a person. On those days, it's just Puck and Quinn, not Puckzilla and the Head-Bitch-In-Charge, and Quinn feels like maybe she's actually worth looking at (like Santana looks at Brittany).
Finn is good for her reputation, and he's too self-centered to see the disgust in her eyes when she feels his erection hot against her thigh and insist they take a prayer break. Sometimes Quinn considers thanking the Lord for Finn being too dumb to see through the charade, but she knows her parents would say He doesn't approve of why she doesn't want that part of Finn anywhere near any part of her.
Instead, she prays that one day she won't need to take a prayer break to stop from throwing up when she remembers who she's kissing.
[*]
Quinn knows that Brittany is still getting Santana drunk enough to kiss her at parties, but she's stopped going to as many because, if she's being honest with herself, Finn gets less appealing (if that's possible) when he's been drinking, and Quinn's not sure if it's that Puck gets more charming when he's been drinking or that Quinn just becomes an easier target when she's been drinking, but either way, it can't lead anywhere good.
The first party she does go to in a while she spends almost entirely attached to Finn's hip, watching Puck watch her and get good and drunk (his eyes say it's her fault, but that's just something else to add to the list of things Quinn can't deal with right now). She watches him proposition Santana and Brittany, watches Santana accept and Brittany follow Santana's lead with a sad smile no one but Quinn catches, and something in her chest twists when they go upstairs.
She makes herself wait a full thirty seconds, just long enough for the drunks around her to forget how long ago the three of them left, before excusing herself to the bathroom, planting a reluctant kiss on Finn's cheek. He beams tipsily up at her, and she straightens her spine, forcing herself to smile back (he's a good guy, he is, he's just...).
The door to Puck's room is cracked, and Quinn resists the urge to look inside – until she hears Santana's laughter, low and slurred. Gritting her teeth, Quinn nudges the door open a little, nearly dropping her drink when she sees Brittany throwing Santana's bra off the side of Puck's bed, leaning forward to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against Santana's skin.
Brittany's eyes flick toward her, and Quinn realizes she must have made some sort of noise. It's kind of insane how expressive the girl's eyes can be, especially since she can't say anything Quinn understands when she actually speaks, but Quinn knows exactly what she's asking.
Taking a deep breath, Quinn reaches in, locks Puck's door, and closes it. The last thing she sees of them is Brittany mouthing 'thank you' with lips still half-pressed against Santana's skin.
The last thing she wants to do right now is go back to sitting in Finn's lap (not when her enetire body is aching with the thought of what her best friends are doing), so she detours to the bathroom, only to find Puck passed out in the bathtub. She sighs, rubs her hand across her face, and goes downstairs to tell Finn (at least he'll be too preoccupied with Puck to try kissing her).
[*]
When Puck's mom calls her up out of the blue to watch Sarah, Quinn is caught between relieved and nervous. Babysitting Sarah means she'll have an excuse not to go to any of the football/Cheerio parties, but it also means that any weekend there isn't a party, Puck will be there.
There won't be any drinking involved as long as Sarah's in the room, but Puck doesn't need to feed her alcohol to make her feel better than Finn ever has, and Quinn knows Finn's friendship probably isn't enough to stop Puck from seriously trying to talk her into bed (and she knows if he catches her on a bad enough day, it won't take much to make her want to do anything to feel a fraction of what Brittany does).
Just being around Puck (Puck, who seems to see her and not the person she's created for herself) is enough to make her lower her guard some, and when most of her weekends spent babysitting Sarah end in pillow fights and tickle wars with Puck, she stops worrying about him staying home from partying to talk to her, and starts enjoying his company.
For the first time in a long time, she's not thinking about Santana and Brittany, or about keeping Finn in check without losing his interest entirely. She's hanging out with Noah Puckerman, and they've somehow become friends.
The Quinn that's kept sharp by Santana and kept aware of her personal space by Finn would have noticed. The HBIC Quinn would never have let Puck in even a little. The good Christian girl her parents raised would have been politely distant and just collected her money at the end of the night.
The Quinn that Puck brings out is completely surprised when he kisses her. His hands are warm on the sides of her face, and his lips are soft (like a girl's would be, if she could only-) and Quinn melts against him, comfortable like she's never been with anyone else.
The Puck everyone at McKinley knows would have tried to take her skirt off, but the Puck that gives his sister piggyback rides and makes Quinn BLTs without her asking just keeps them there, sharing space and breath, not even trying to slide his tongue into her mouth.
They stay like that until her phone rings. They both know it's Santana's ringtone, and they jump apart, staring at each other, her phone fading into silence.
For a second, Quinn sees the possibility of something good between them. Then she's sees his erection straining against his jeans (bites her tongue against nausea), and Santana calls back, and the moment is broken.
That night, she crawls into bed with knees red from prayer and eyes red from tears.
[*]
Neither Santana nor Quinn are good at asking questions (real questions, not the rhetorical bitchy kind), but they both know Quinn is still the top bitch at McKinley, if only by a thin margin, so Santana ends up phrasing her proposition to study as a question asked on Brittany's behalf, which they both know it's not.
Quinn, in desperate need of something to fill her weekends now that she doesn't dare attend parties at Matt's uncle's house or go babysit Sarah, accepts. She would take just about any excuse to keep busy on the weekends, but it's easier to handle her father if she says she's going to go study, and unlike "studying" at Finn's, Quinn knows she'll actually learn something. Santana may be a huge bitch, but she and Brittany speak perfect Spanish, and unlike Brittany, Santana can explain the logic behind what she's saying in a way Quinn can understand.
The first few sessions go well. Quinn knows she's getting better, even though she spends the entire time keeping tight rein on herself (Santana using words Quinn doesn't understand is both infuriating and unfortunately very attractive, and Quinn learns not to look directly at her when she's speaking Spanish for just that reason) while Brittany manages Santana.
Quinn knows they spend the time before and after study sessions doing whatever is it they do they're alone (she aches to know what that is, but the knowledge would only make everything worse). It's in the small marks she can see when Brittany stretches and her top rides up, and in the languid grace with which Santana stretches out on her bed, so much more relaxed than she is at school, full of an easy smugness Santana-at-school wishes she had.
Her Spanish grade is going up, but so is her level of frustration, and one Friday during practice she completely snaps on Santana, going off on a rant that might be called Berry-esque if not for the lack of words normal people don't understand and the sheer acidity.
Less than an hour later, Quinn knocks on Santana's door, prepared for the vitriol she's going to have to deal with tonight. Part of her regrets losing it on Santana, because for once she didn't have it coming but (it's pretty much Santana's fault anyway, with her post-sex grace and the way Brittany looks at her like she's always Brittany will ever need, so) there's no way she's apologizing.
Santana doesn't answer the door or her phone, and Quinn waits all of a minute before finding the key Santana gave her years ago (back when they were all innocent and watching them together didn't hurt), pausing when she walks in the house to cock her head to the side and listen. The faint sound of something is echoing from the stairway. Quinn has no idea what they could possibly be watching that they've turned up loud enough for her to hear downstairs, because there's only one thing Brittany likes loud and what she's hearing is definitely not pop music.
As she gets closer to Santana's door, Quinn realizes it sounds like bedsprings, which just doesn't make any sense. The first thing her mind jumps to is that they're jumping on the bed (like the three of them used to) and by the time she realizes how stupid that is, and what they're likely doing instead, she's already opened the door.
It's not like she hasn't seen both of them naked. Between the locker room and the Cheerios showers, Quinn has seen them in nothing from pretty much every angle (and when she dreams, her mind recalls snapshots of Brittany's hard, flat stomach and Santana's curves).
Watching Santana rock her hips back and forth with Brittany's head buried between her legs, holding on to her headboard like it's the only thing keeping her anchored, is a long way from the Cheerios showers.
Over the years, Brittany has been the one that's caught Quinn's eye (probably because when Brittany catches her looking, she just smiles, but Santana's eyes promise either death or vicious, vicious words if Quinn's eyes linger even a second longer than necessary), but the sway of Santana's hips is hypnotizing, and Quinn's books fall from nerveless fingers.
There's fear in Santana's eyes when her head snaps around, genuine fear, and for the first time Quinn is struck by the fact that, while they're both in denial about (terrified of) essentially the same thing, Santana is at least brave enough to make love to the girl she loves, even if Quinn knows it usually takes a lot of alcohol.
Not even Santana's snappish comment can kill the heat flaring in every inch of Quinn's skin. They look so good together; Santana's deep tan playing off Brittany's paleness, Santana's curves to Brittany's tone, and Quinn tries desperately not to stare.
Brittany licks Santana off her lips (a jolt goes through Quinn, and she bites the inside of her cheek hard) and sits up, bringing her hand to rest between Santana's shoulderblades. She's completely and utterly relaxed, her eyes asking easily why are you and Santana making this such a big deal? Even as her lips tell Quinn what she hadn't dared to think was a possibility.
Not even the cross at her throat can ground her against the chills these two are giving her, and Quinn flicks her eyes down to Santana's carpet, trying to re-form her usual discipline. Her parents would disown her if they ever found out about this (Quinn isn't sure what this is, or what it will become, but that she knows for sure), they would tell her she's going to hell for having all these gay thoughts and- her body moves without her permission, and she's closing the door, sagging back against it like she's just run wind sprints.
A moan forces her eyes back to the bed, and Quinn looks up to see Brittany staring at her, grinding her hips against Santana's hand. Quinn's mouth goes dry, and even though she knows in some part of her mind that Santana is completely ignoring her, and that Brittany is riding her best friend's fingers, Quinn can't think of anything but Brittany's deep, half-open blue eyes boring into hers.
Brittany bites into her lip and her eyes flutter shut for a few seconds as she arches against Santana, but still Quinn can't look away. When her eyes open again, they're telling her that she could have been in the bed with them. Quinn swallows hard, feeling her hands start to shake.
The silence stretches between them, and Quinn comes to the horrifying realization that she's going to have to be the one to do something. For once, Brittany's not rescuing them by saying something completely inappropriate that she and Santana can roll their eyes at and go about their business after, and Santana is (as usual) so terrified of herself she's not going to be the one to make the first move.
Quinn lives and breathes denial. It's her first and last defense, even above and beyond bitchiness and social clout, and when old habits present a plan, she goes with it, because whatever this thing between the three of them could be, she's not ready for it (she'll think later that it's the height of irony that Brittany, the Brittany that everyone thinks is so clueless, is the one of them that's been ready for this since well before either she or Santana even considered it a possibility).
She takes a deep, steadying breath, and lets it out. The first step to control is breathing, and after she's got herself breathing in a regular pattern, she smooths her skirt reflexively, bends over to get her books, and walks to the side of Santana's bed to sit, looking ever inch the confident, self-contained cheerleader (on the inside she's a shaking mess, but denial is all about getting the outside right first).
It's all going well until Brittany reaches down to cup her chin. All the arousal from earlier floods back at the touch, and Quinn stiffens, but Brittany doesn't seem to notice. They're face-to-face before Quinn can adjust to the whiplash mood shift, and Brittany kisses her once, softly (some of Santana's taste is on Quinn's lips now, and she can't help but whine softly when she licks it away) and tugs on the top of her uniform.
Quinn allows herself to be pulled into bed next to Brittany (the logical part of her brain, the part concerned with self-preservation, is shut down completely) remembering at the last second to grab her Spanish II textbook. The taller girl presses their bodies together (they fit well, which doesn't make any sense; Brittany is both taller and built completely different) and Quinn stops herself from thinking about how her Cheerios uniform is the only thing separating Brittany's skin from hers.
Brittany starts reading the Spanish text over her shoulder, and Quinn has just about managed to focus when Brittany pulls her hair tie out and starts running her fingers through Quinn's hair. It feels better than it has with anyone else (she remembers, all of a sudden, that Brittany was the last person to do this, years ago) and Quinn relaxes back against her, letting the Spanish flow over them both.
Quinn's eyes are half-closed and she's starting to fall asleep when she hears Santana enter the room again (when did she leave?). Her peaceful mood is gone, and she stiffens, forcing herself to breathe in a regular pattern. Quinn knows that if one of them is going to break this, make all three of them think about what's going on and what it means, it's Santana, and panic threatens to take over.
She may know she's (gay) different, but there's only one way she can deal with being in bed with a naked girl after watching her two best friends have lesbian sex, and if Santana makes her think about this-
Brittany trails off into silence, and Quinn freezes, her entire being shrinking down to this moment, to waiting for Santana to ruin everything.
When Santana climbs into bed next to Brittany, Quinn doesn't relax so much as she regains the ability to turn the pages in her textbook. She can't look at either of them, but she can feel Santana's weight on the bed behind Brittany, and she feels Britt pull Santana closer, Santana's hand brushing Quinn's back, and she knows it's all she can take. Anything more, anything at all, and all of this (whatever it is) will shatter.
Before Quinn knows it, her phone alarm is chiming, telling her she has to get home soon, and she shuts her book, biting her lip.
"I have to go."
It's the first thing any of them have said in English in hours, and Quinn can't help but feel that whatever is said next will determine how they handle this from then on.
Brittany kisses the back of her neck softly (Quinn exhales and her eyes flutter half-shut), Santana snorts sleepily, and Quinn waits. When neither of them seem inclined to say anything, Brittany lightly pushes her out of bed with gentle fingers on her back, and Quinn stands unsteadily.
When Quinn steals a glance over her shoulder on the way out of Santana's room, she sees Brittany's content look, Santana's intense, unreadable gaze from over Brittany's shoulder, and for the first time in years, Quinn can look at them without feeling like there's an incredibly large divide between the three of them.
When she gets home, she stares at herself in the mirror, fingering the cross at her neck. She remembers the gentleness of Brittany's fingers running through her hair, the almost-friendly corrections Santana made to her Spanish pronunciation, and allows herself to think, for the first time in her life, that if God wants to take that from her, she doesn't want much of anything to do with Him.
(It's quickly followed by three Hail Marys and an hour of prayer, but looking back, Quinn thinks it's a start.)
